Chapter 7
-Cash-
Wrigley leans his head on my shoulder, flicking his long hair over his back and curling into my side slightly. I look in the other direction for a moment as I try and regain control over my face before looking back at him and eavesdropping on his conversation with his mother.
“Hey mummy, how are you feeling? I’m sorry I haven’t called you in a while.” Wrigley chews his lip slightly, staring up at the ceiling slightly, and I can tell that he’s anxious. Does he not get on with his mother or something? They sound close though?
“I’m well thank you darling! Your sister came to visit which is always nice. It’s a shame though, even she thinks that I’ve lost it. But I haven’t, you know that, right, don’t you Wriggles?”
I see the conflicting emotions as they flit across Wrigley’s face before he smiles sadly. “Of course I do mum. But um, can you- can you still see them?” He asks suddenly, sitting up off my shoulder and turning around so that I can no longer see his face.
“Of course sweetie, I see your father everyday, he’s one of the doctors who comes to give me my medicine. It’s so strange though, he looks a little different every time, and I don’t remember him ever being interested in healthcare. My memory must be escaping me with my old age, silly me!”
Wrigley is silent for a moment before inhaling slightly shakily. “Mummy, you do remember that dad died a long time ago, right?”
I glance up at him, Wrigley’s back still facing me but the tension there clear for me to see. “Of course I remember, silly Wriggles. I could never forget it. But sweetie, is there something you wanted to ask me about? You don’t normally bring up them without me saying something first.”
Wrigley suddenly turns back to look at me before smiling, and I can see how damp his eyes are looking. “Well you see mum, I accidentally formed a contract with a ghost. And I can see and touch him. You know I’ve never had any spiritual powers, so we were wondering how that was possible.”
Scooting closer again, I smile softly as Wrigley places his head back on my shoulder. “That’s great news Wriggles! But my baby, you don’t have an spiritual powers; I didn’t get to pass mine on. Which means that you must have formed the contract through the shared power our whole family gets on your great grandmother’s birth and death day, which was yesterday. Did you form this contract then?”
Wrigley nods emphatically on my shoulder before remembering that his mother can’t see him, and saying an excited ‘yes’ down the phone instead. I hesitantly wrap my arm around Wrigley’s shoulders, expecting him to swat my arm away or something. Instead, he just glances up, meeting my eyes for a fraction of a second as he smiles before looking away.
“As for how you can see and touch him - well, despite the power from your ancestors, that shouldn’t be possible. Which leaves only one explanation: a gate.”
Wrigley and I both frown at the same time, confused as to what the hell that means. “They are very rare, and it’s incredible that yours coincided at the same time as the one day a year that you have any power from your ancestors. Gates are exactly what they sound like: a bridge between the world of the living and that of the dead. You, a normal living person, are able to see and touch someone from the world of the dead. You are his gate, and he is yours. These gates don’t happen often, and no one knows why they happen; it always seems to be random who they happen to and when. Normally though, they only last a day, and after that, the person is never able to see or touch ghosts again, even if it is the same ghost.”
Wrigley sits up extremely straight, glancing over at me and poking my chest. I feel the poke, the contact, the warmth. And I feel a little bit more here whenever he touches me. A little bit more in the world of the living. Not like I’m going to miraculously become alive again or undead or whatever, but just that…I’m not some floaty blob anymore.
“How come I can still see and touch him then? Shouldn’t it have stopped by now?” He asks, looking confused but not necessarily concerned or frustrated. “I assume it’s because you formed a contract. Ghost contracts override everything else, they are extremely powerful. If I wasn’t as weak as I am now after your dad’s death, I would’ve formed a contract with your father’s ghost so that he wouldn’t disappear.”
Hurt flashes across Wrigley’s face and I can’t tell if it’s at the mention of his father or the fact that is mother is so set on being able to see Wrigley’s father’s ghost, which, based on this phone conversation, might not be true.
“Hang on so- why- what? So should we- should we break the contract then? And if we break the contract, will I not be able to see him anymore?” Wrigley chews on his lip, sending me the occasional glance.
“Most likely. That’s if you could even break the contract; you’d need a lot of power to reverse what you’ve already done, and you won’t have that until next year, when it’s your great grandmother’s birth and death day again. As far as I know, you’re stuck with each other until then. But then again, I was never a great spiritualist, despite learning from my grandmother, who was.”
I don’t know how to feel about spending a year contracted to Wrigley. On one hand, being with him is fun, but as soon as he goes to hang out with real, living friends, I’ll be on my own again. And who knows how long it’ll be until I can next get a contract? With a real spiritualist and not a charlatan who did this all accidentally?
“Bye, I love you too. I’ll come visit you soon, and yes I’ll bring him if he wants to visit. See you soon mummy,” he says gently as I tune back into the conversation. Wrigley gently places his phone back on his bedside table before slowly turning back to look at me.
“So um, I guess we’ll be staying in the contract for a bit. Do you mind? I know you were pretty set on leaving, earlier,” he says quietly. I am silent for a moment before shrugging. “I mean there’s nothing we can do about it either way. So long as you don’t piss me off all the time or ignore me then it should be ok.”
Wrigley smirks like the little shit that he is, slinging his arm around my neck and poking me in the chest. He does that a lot, actually. Not like I actually mind though. “Oh I’m not making aaany promises regarding that first point; pissing you off is literally one of my favourite things to do, so. BUT, I do promise not to ignore you. It’ll be like having a roommate for a year; that sounds perfectly manageable,” he muses brightly.
Snorting, I pull his hood over his head and draw the strings tightly so that he can’t see anything, tying the laces so he’ll have a tricky time untying them. Wrigley huffs in annoyance, fumbling around to gain back his senses whilst I just laugh, pushing him back onto his bed. He lets out a little yelp before finally managing to get his hood off and glaring at me.
“Yeah actually I’m already rethinking this, I mean most roommates aren’t dead or also, you know, arseholes who deliberately annoy me. If you weren’t a fucking ghost then you’d be sooo dead you shit,” he snarls as he stands up off the bed.
Now, this might actually be somewhat intimidating if his hair didn’t look comically messy from the whole hood-thing and if his angry face wasn’t the most adorable thing ever, and also if he was taller. I mean, I’m not the tallest person, but Wrigley? He’s an honest-to-god midget.
So whilst this tiny little grumpy man stands up, jabbing his thumb against my chest and looking like a disgruntled mouse, I really just can’t stop laughing. He really is cute.
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